“I am here to hear anything you wish to say
to me. Any threats that you have to make, any
bargain that you wish to propose. I thought when
I paid you that money—­”

“That money’s gone; it went in a few hours.”

He felt savagely angry at her calmness, at her pride
and superiority. Why, knowing what he knew, she
ought to be pretty well on her knees to him.

“Please tell me what you wish to see me about
and let me go. It is money, of course?”

Her voice was level, filled with scorn and utter contempt,
and it made the man writhe in helpless fury.

“Look here, stow that!” he said coarsely.
“Don’t ride the high horse with me.
Remember I know you, know all about you. I know
who you are and what you are, and—­and don’t—­don’t”—­he
was stuttering and stammering in his rage—­“don’t
think you can put me in my place, because you can’t!”

Joan did not answer.

“If I want money I’ve got a right to ask
for it! And I do. I’ve got something
to sell, ain’t I?—­knowledge and silence.
And silence is worth a lot, my girl, when a woman’s
engaged to be married, and when there’s things
in her past she don’t care about people knowing
of. Yes, Miss Joan Meredyth, my lady clerk on
three quid a week was one person, but Miss Meredyth
of Starden Hall, engaged to be married to Mr. John
Everard of Buddesby, is another, ain’t she?”

“Please say what you have to say,” she
said coldly. “I do not wish to stay here
with you.”

“But you are going to,” he said.
“You are going to!” He reached out suddenly
and gripped her hand. He had expected that she
might struggle; it would have been human if she had,
but she didn’t.

“Please release my hand,” she said coldly.
“I do not wish to stay here with you!”
She paused. “Tell me why you wish to see
me!”

He dropped her hand with a snarling oath.

“Well, if you want to know, it is money, and
this time it is good money. I am up against it,
and I’ve got to have money. I’ve been
down here several times, hunting round, listening
to things, hearing things. I heard about your
engagement. I have heard about you. Oh, everyone
looks up to you round here—­Miss Meredyth
of Starden!” He laughed. “And it is
going to pay Miss Meredyth of Starden to shut my mouth,
ain’t it? June, nineteen eighteen, ain’t
so long ago, is it? Mr. Hugh Alston—­hang
him!—­you set him on to me, didn’t
you?”